


Amortentia

by divagonzo



Series: Citrus Basket Series [8]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-11-23
Updated: 2015-11-23
Packaged: 2018-05-03 02:43:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,932
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5273510
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/divagonzo/pseuds/divagonzo
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ron and Hermione privately discuss their plans for their wedding and honeymoon while at the Ministry.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Amortentia

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: #5 - Library. **NC-17**. Kink fulfillment.

* * *

“Did he agree? Can you take three weeks off?” 

Hermione slid out from her desk and by Ron. She walked quickly up the hallway with him trailing her. 

“Please tell me he agreed. We need those three weeks off. You said –“

Hermione stopped at the front doors of the Ministry Library. “Not here,” she hissed. He saw the mirth in her eyes and the small smile – the one she reserved for only him – and walked through the double doors of the library. Damn, if she was going to find a dark corner of the library for a snog –

His cock twitched in his uniform trousers and he refused to consider any revolting thoughts to make it tamp down in the barely lit library. But if she was leading, she’d have some idea of what her arse was doing to him, wearing that dark brown skirt that accented her curves. Fuck, she was wearing the barely there strings of a thong. 

He tried to adjust his trousers but it was impossible while trying to keep pace with Hermione twisting and turning in the bloody fucking library. 

She stopped in front of an expanse of shelving and selected one particular book. He didn’t get a glimpse of the title, even when she showed it to him, before a secret door in the wall opened inward and into another chamber. 

They entered the secondary room, filled with even more dusty books and near darkness. The one lone Gaslamp at the ceiling wasn’t near enough illumination to read in here, even with one ancient wooden table and an even more decrepit chair to sit. 

Hermione stopped short of the table and pointed at the glass jar on the table. 

“Did you just – “

“Yes I did. I prefer more light.” She motioned her wand again and inside the massive glass jar on the table was soothing blue light. “Brilliant you are!” 

She turned and smiled brightly for him. “Now we can talk. Yes, he approved me for three weeks off. We can have the wedding at the Burrow, followed by two weeks away. I wish you would tell me where we are going after the wedding. I’d like to know what to pack for the trip.” 

“Well, it’s someplace warm,” he lifted the heavy wool of her over-robes on her shoulder, “and someplace secluded.” Ron caressed the curve of her shoulder at the neck, gently nibbling on it. “Which means you won’t need much in the way of clothing, I reckon.” He pulled the ends of the blouse out of her skirt and skimmed his fingertips over the curving lace of her brassiere, under her blouse. “You could, for the most part, pack all of your things in a toiletry bag, as much as we’ll be out and about while there.” 

“You’re such a tease. Tell me where we’re going.” 

Ron pulled the soft material from her arms and watched it fall delicately into a pile on the floor. In the shadowed darkness of the restricted library, the bluebell flames flickered across her skin, showing the scars that were still on her arms and shoulders, across her chest and stomach. “Merlin, you’re beautiful.” 

“Ron, tell me where we’re going.” 

He shook his head, smiling like he won a year’s supply of chocolate frogs. “No. But I promise it’s somewhere that you won’t be ashamed to show your body.” 

“I’m not ashamed. I’m just uncomfortable with people staring at all the scars that mar it. They make it like it’s some big deal when it’s just a reminder of everything we went through to have this life.” 

Ron quickly shed out of his dress shirt and tie, leaving him in his orange vest he wore on office days. The scars on his arms illuminated brightly, highlighting his own moments he lived through. “And where we’re going, no one’s going to think of our scars and point and talk about them. From what I’ve been told, there are few people around.” 

Hermione reached over to trace the white scar lines across his knuckles and then bypassing his wrists. Fine ginger hairs stood up under her touch as she traced the interconnected lines on his arm, swirling across muscles and tendons that twitched under her deft touch. 

“At least tell me if it’s close by or not. I’d hate to pack the wrong things for it.” 

“No. You’ll just have to trust me.” 

Hermione looked up at her fiancée and saw the amusement etched into his features. “How about this: I make it worth your while, then? For every answer I get, I lose another article of clothing.” 

Auror training taught him to notice small details, like how she bit her lip and how her lips were more red than usual, and the blush staining her cheeks and throat. 

“You want to shag in here? Brilliant.” 

“I will, but only if you give me hints on where we’re going on our honeymoon.” 

He tapped one long finger across his thin lips, watching her go mad in the silence of the library. “Deal. First hint: it’s warm.” 

“I already know that.” 

“It’s still an answer.” He grinned salaciously. 

“Fine,” she huffed. She stepped out of her 2” dainty heels, feeling much shorter now by comparison to the larger than life best friend she was about to make love to. “Next thing.” 

“It’s secluded, so we can walk around in little to nothing and no one will say a thing.” 

“That still doesn’t tell me a thing but since you answered,” Hermione undid the button and zip on her wool skirt and let it drop to the ground, leaving her in tights, knickers, and bra. “Next?” 

Ron’s smiled turned wicked. He pulled his wand from the holster on his arm and pointed it at Hermione. One non-verbal incantation later and Hermione was left starkers. 

“You cheated!” She howled at him. 

“Nope. I told you that you have to trust me. I’m not telling you where we are going for our honeymoon.” 

She reached for him, vainly trying to slap his arm. “Nope, not today, love.” He picked her up by her arms and none too gently deposited her on the table behind her. 

“Oh, damn it.” Hermione shifted her bum to rub where she landed hard on the wood. 

“Sorry, love,” he worked to release the buckle on his trousers before shoving them down just slightly, far enough for his impressive erection to be proudly displayed. “But now that I have you where I need you,” he froze looking at her stiff nipples and smelled the musky sent wafting off her sex. 

“Ron, why are you staring? You’ve seen me before.” 

“We’re going to shag in a library. That’s one of your fantasies.” He stroked his erection while looking her over. He lifted his eyes from the trimmed hair on her mons, across the darkened areolae of her nipples to her face. Her eyes were darker than Mum’s homemade chocolate pudding he devoured often. He waddled over to her and put a hand in her hair and a finger across her lips. She kissed his palm before nudging his hand. 

“I’m looking at the woman I love and who agreed to marry in three months. If her sitting on this table doesn’t give me a bloody stiffy, no one does.” Ron spread her knees wider and watched Hermione adjust her hands behind her. “Ready, love?” 

She smiled. “Fuck me, Ron.” 

He pulled her hips to the edge of the table and impaled his cock on her, holding still a moment while she fluttered across his shaft. “You can move,” she whispered among the stacks of decrepit books and old smoke smell. 

He thrust once, rubbing his pubic bone into her dripping slit and watched her face grow slack immediately. 

“Do that again,” she quietly begged. 

He did as she asked and felt her quim squeeze him slightly. “Shite, love when you do that.” 

He spread her knees wider; shoving his hands back past her arse onto the wood of the table and watched her knees shudder once they were over his forearms. “Lean back so your back doesn’t hurt.” 

One hand went behind her, reinforcing her spot on the table while the other one slid down her body, passing her breasts to her clit right above where he was ramming his cock into her. “I need,” she panted in a feeble attempt of working in rhythm with his thrusts, “I need you.” 

He worked a hand under her arse, lifting her slightly. She fell back further onto the wood table, with the bluebell fire jaw sliding further over the table. “More,” she begged. 

His other hand moved her leg from around his hip higher, snaking the ankle around his neck. She was, for all intents, broken wide open for him. “I know what I can do,” he lifted on his toes while holding her in place on the tabletop. His hand joined hers, rubbing hard onto her clit. “Play with your tits, love. I’ll get you off. I’ve not failed you in years!” 

She did as he asked, moving her hand from her thatch of hair to her breasts, rubbing the left one with both hands. 

“Fuck, I love when you do that. Play with them!” 

He watched her squirm in his hands, ready for an orgasm only he could give her. While she fondled herself for his viewing pleasure, he worked his hand from her bum into her wiry curls and found her proud clit standing for his attention. He rubbed her clit between his thumb and forefinger, feeling her clamp down on him instantly. He turned his head and bit her thigh, right above the curve at her knee. 

“RON!” she screamed and he felt a warm gush over his cock. 

He thrust again, burying himself balls deep and felt the band in his bollocks snap, hard. “Hermione,” he groaned loud in their confined area. He collapsed, pinning her to the table, her leg still wrapped around his neck. 

“Ron, a little help please,” she pleaded. 

He opened his eyes and saw the pain on her face. “Oh fuck, sorry!” he stood up and watched her move her hip and lift her ankle from his shoulder, laying mostly flat on the table. “Ow.” 

“Fuck, sorry,” he apologized again while helping her into a sitting position. “But that was so bloody good.” 

“I know. I wanted that too.” 

“And we’ll have more of that on our honeymoon.” 

“Wherever it is,” Hermione petulantly pouted. 

“You really want to know?” 

“Yes!” 

Ron leaned far over Hermione, finding her eyes looking so wide in comparison to his. “You’ll find out when we get there.” He kissed her languidly. “I promise you’ll love it. I know for a fact you’ve not been there with your parents.” 

“Ron! You tell me or I’m not letting you shag me ‘til the honeymoon.” Her face turned a nice shade of tomato. 

Ron gulped in calculating the three months until the day of the wedding. Three months wanking after just shagging Hermione would be completely unacceptable. 

“Fine. It’s a small wizarding community in France, on the Mediterranean coast. Fleur turned me onto it. She said it’s a clothing optional coastal community. We have a villa there for a fortnight.” 

Hermione lifted her arms and pulled him back down to her, snogging him ferociously. “That’s bloody brilliant.” She nibbled on his lips and felt his cock re-awakening. “That’s worth a second go, if you’re up for it.” She looked at him and smiled. “And I think you’d like that, too.”


End file.
